


révérence

by cyaneyed



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Backstage, Ballet, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Slice of Life, Snippets, Sweat, ereri, i wanted to draw this but it turned into a fic instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyaneyed/pseuds/cyaneyed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His body limns the French commands with an eloquence that betrays little effort; lyrical in moments of arid classicality, expressive with even the most technical phrases.</p><p>Ballet AU!Ereri</p>
            </blockquote>





	révérence

In the wings, backdrop pulleys and cables extend up into the dark, canvases hanging suspended high over the stage: a ballroom, a snowy forest, a kingdom of sweets. The heavy fibre optic curtain hovers in the back, tiny white lights blinking on and off in a mesmerising display for when the angels dance.  
The air is musty, heavy with hairspray and sweat, pierced by the sharp scent of pine rosin.  
Eren loves to watch Levi stretch in the dusky light of the wings, earbuds tucked in; eyes closed as he draws his foot over his head, easy, counting to himself.  
He loves backstage in general; thick black curtain wings swallowing him whole, blinding lights that throw everything into silhouette. Loves the wait before the music begins; fingers stinging with adrenaline, the thud of his blood loud in his ears. 

+

Hands alight on his thighs, smoothing upwards, and Eren lets his eyes slide closed, drinking in the golden touch.  
Levi's fingers knead deep into the sore muscles at the curve of his back, and he moans appreciatively, squirming slightly under the pressure. Levi presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, lips just brushing against the soft hair there.  
He smooths his hands over the tan skin at his shoulders, skimming his nails down to linger over his hips, concentrating on the small sounds that the other makes in the mellow half-light. He teases at the frayed hem of his tights, tantalisingly slow, and Eren supresses a shudder.  
His hands still, and Eren sits up sleepily, turning to look at him.  
Levi's fingertips trace over his jaw, gentle, guiding his face up to meet his eyes, too close to focus properly. There’s a breath of hesitation, and then Levi’s mouth is at his, lips pressing and teeth nipping tenderly down his throat. Eren clings to him, fingers tangling in his hair, a summery radiance settling in between them.

+

Watching Levi dance, Eren is almost jealous of the way he makes everything look so natural, so easy. His limbs are elegant, suggesting a barely contained power just beneath. His promenade is whip-quick, measured turns flashing just a hair ahead of the beat, covering more ground than seems possible.  
He holds his breath as Levi suspends his balance en attitude, hangs in the swell of the music to extend just a bit further out. His expression of concentration is almost a scowl; a haughty nobility in the angle of his gaze that matches the grace he carries.  
His body limns the French commands with an eloquence that betrays little effort; lyrical in moments of arid classicality, expressive with even the most technical phrases.  
He finishes his last tour en l’air; prepares, then shifts into a rapid set of pirouettes in one smooth movement before gliding down to one knee, his arms stretched out towards the mirror. A few claps trickle forth from the dancers that remain in the studio, while Eren studies the chase of dizziness in his sharp eyes, the rise and fall of his chest.

+

Levi’s hands trail over the pale laces of his bodice, and Eren sighs, silently pleading, hips pressing up into his. Levi lowers to bite at his lips, gentle, and he slows.  
In their cramped dressing room, any vertical space has been claimed by bags, advil, bandaids, tape, shoes, and discarded clothing. Costumes are jammed close together on metal racks; brilliant colours dulled by the dingy light. An ugly yellow couch lines one wall; striped cushions lumpy and threadbare, but it's comfortable enough when they lay on it together.  
Levi kisses over his adam’s apple, warm breath spreading over the vulnerable dips of his collarbones. His hands rub over his hips in small circles, calloused fingers against bare skin, and Eren arches into his touch, mind hazy, clutching at his wrists.  
His cheeks are flushed, and he presses his nose into Levi’s neck, grinning. The faintly bitter scent of cigarettes lingers there, the soft ends of his inky hair tickling his nose.  
Levi’s hands pool under layers of thick satin, smoothing over the flat expanse of his stomach. His palms are warm and heavy and Eren shivers at the feeling, knees touching together as he shifts beneath the touch.  
He concentrates on the dim play of light on Levi’s skin; the sense of it rich and smooth under his fingertips, hypnotising him, holding him in its edges. 

+

They stake out the same spots at the barre for every class. Eren follows his movements on the first side with an expression of intense focus; studiously masking the fact that he never quite grasps the combination the first time around. All the same, he imbibes their lessons with an avid seriousness, tending every word with a solemn respect.  
Levi isn't quite sure if Eren's caught on to the fact that he mainly covets his barre spot for the view when they're on the left. 

+

They steal out back during their breaks; backs flush against the rough brick.  
Levi shakes a cigarette out of a beaten pack and they share it between them, sneaking quick kisses between the rich-dirty draw of smoke. The sky is a blank grey that promises snow, but the frigid air feels good on their sweaty skin.  
They press close together, content in the absence of words; hurrying to finish before the chill can elicit their surrender.

+

It’s the last rehearsal before a performance, and there’s an exhausted desperation to their movements, tense and vulnerable.  
They undo the laces of each other’s costumes, glistening backs exposed to the stuffy air; free their blistered feet from cramped and sweaty shoes. Levi pulls Eren to him, his grip needy and sloppy, muscles sluggish and aching. Eren's eyes are hazy in the dusky light, unfocused, breathing an uneven impatience into the kiss.  
He can hear the clatter of footsteps rushing by the locked door of their room, the staticky build of strings where rehearsal is still taking place in the distance. The music is familiar as the sound of his own pulse; the same songs he’s heard every weekend, for months, every year, ingrained deep within his bones.  
He pushes insistent hands under Eren's velvet tunic, hungry for bare skin, shoving the fabric away. They stumble onto the couch, and Levi can feel Eren slacken beneath him as he kisses him, raw and messy. His long legs spread obligingly, pressing into his palm, and Levi stutters out a groan.  
He flips him by the hips, tracing his hands down the line of his spine. Listens to his harsh breathing as he pulls the waistband of black tights down over his ass, around his thighs. He takes over with his mouth; teasing at the dips in the base of his back, grazing teeth over sweaty skin; nosing at the damp strap of his dance belt, hands tracing over tense legs tangled beneath him.  
He catches the sweaty band of the dance belt under a finger before letting it snap back with an audible smack. Eren jerks back, gasps open and breathy into the cushion, and Levi smooths a hand over one bare cheek before shifting lower. 

+

Eren's warmups are a study in layers and deterioration: old green leg warmers with more holes than fabric, falling around tight black shorts; a woolly, second-hand cardigan thrown over the loose, ugly grey shirt he got from the restaurant that runs around the corner from their apartment. The black canvas of his shoes is tatty enough to see at least three of his toes, but he likes the sensation of the floor beneath him, dragging slow and sure under the sweep of his foot.

+

Levi brushes a dusting of soft amber over Eren's twitching lids, steadying him with gentle fingertips at his chin. He always lets Levi do his eyes; compliant under his touch as the other lays sure, balanced lines along white accents and shaded lids. Eren always looks slightly wild under stage makeup, a little unknowable in his ferocity.  
They leave most of the mirror lights off to keep the room cool, let the muted blue light of the city outside filter in through fogged glass.  
Levi's own face bears the trace of Eren's capable hand; a thick sheen of powdery silver-blue over his eyes, slick black that clings heavy to his lashes. He sits patiently while Eren kneels behind him; feels his weight solid against his back as careful fingers pin on his hairpiece, a delicate crown of glistening snowdrops against shiny black hair slick with spray.  
Eren slides a worn tube of muted pink neatly over his own lips, smiling as he catches Levi’s gaze in the mirror. He takes Levi’s hand and gently presses it to his lips, sashaying quickly out of the room before Levi can register the rosy print he left. 

+

Any timidity held backstage is lost when Eren is in front of the shadowed audience, exhaustion stripped from his body as he focuses on holding their attention with a lifted chin and wide smile. His épaulement is lofty, stayed by an undercurrent of lithe strength and an air of determination. He tests the give of each movement under their gaze, retracing familiar steps over the slick black floor.  
He meets Levi's eyes across the stage and he can see the moment Levi's smile tips into something more genuine, a sincerity soft at the edges. 

+

Dried sweat lines track through layers of foundation, headpieces are bumped off centre, makeup smudged and greasy, bodies sore and spent. When the heavy red curtain finally closes, there's an air of triumph that accompanies the painful thrum of adrenaline.  
They congratulate the other dancers before leaving to celebrate in private; collapsing onto their couch with glitter sticking to their skin and heartbeats still heavy from dancing.  
Eren swings a leg over top of him, straddling his hips, hands curling in the flouncy fabric of his costume. He dances his fingers over the silk fabric that clings to Levi’s skin, snowy flowers strewn over the gauzy bodice. He tilts his hips just a little, chest dipping to kiss praises at the bottom of Levis neck, breath coming in hot gusts.  
His own costume is littered with gemstones, edged in a scratchy netted lace. When he bends down, the neckline reveals the rise and fall of his tan chest, gleaming slightly with sweat.  
He presses back and down, rubbing slowly over Levi, who grips at his hips, arms trembling slightly with exhaustion. He is too beautiful so close to him, and so he closes his eyes with a smile, humming softly under his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are so appreciated


End file.
